I was born March 2, 1959 at the Margaret Hague home for unwed mothers in NJ. My mother was only 16 when I was born. My father was 17. My birthparents were from West Virginia, a small town where coal mining was a common occupation. The adoption worker typed this up and sent it to me at my request when I turned 18 years old.This is what they call non-identifying information.

The adoption agency lady told me that my mother had yelled and yelled in the hospital for me after I was born until they finally brought me to her. She named me Gerry Lynn, Gerry after my dad. Hearing all of this was upsetting to me. This was the first time I really knew what she had gone through. I thought maybe my birthmother was really just crazy or did not care or want me so she gave me up for adoption. It had been easier to think that she was a monster and that I had been better off without her. When I found out she was a nice person and that I might of liked her it made me see what I had also lost through being adopted.

My birthmother told me one thing she has learned is when people say they are doing this for your own good, run like hell. She would not give me up if she had to do it over again, it is her one regret in life. She says that she believes that God must have forgiven her for her sins as she has me back now.

One fine day my adoptive parents got the call from the agency, they had a baby girl for them. I was adopted on March 30, 1959 almost a month after I was born. I can still see the excitement on my adoptive mothers face as she would tell me the adoption story. My father who was over 6 feet tall, would hold his hand up and tell me about a million times that he could hold me in one hand I was so small when they got me. My adoptive parents never told anyone we were adopted, if my brother and I told them then it was fine with them, it wasn't a secret. I have met other adoptees who say their folks would always tell people they were adopted when they introduced them. That would make you nuts, I feel sorry for them.

My adoptive parents are both gone now. I am 41 years old and it has been a long journey. They were not perfect people or perfect parents but I always knew they loved me. I can tell you that is what is really important. I miss them so much sometimes I cry if nobody is watching.

My parents told me that I was adopted as early as I can remember. When I was told how babies are made I made the connection. I realized that being adopted was not how everyone else came in to their family, none of my friends were adopted. My adopted brother Eric did not take this information well then and I think it still bothers him today. When I told my friends I was adopted, he told everyone that I was adopted but he wasn’t.

My parents did not know what to do with Eric and it became more difficult as he got older. Nobody could control him and he couldn’t control himself. Eric’s psychiatrist told my parents to get me away from Eric as he felt Eric was a danger to me. Eric did so many things I am quite lucky to still be here. He was probably the most reckless person I have ever known.

I love my brother though and feel protective of him especially because of all the problems he has had. Now that my adoptive parents are gone I sort of watch over Eric like they did.

I can tell this story about Eric now as our adoptive parents are gone, or they would freak out. One example, Eric would drive me in his car when I was around 14 going around blind corners on the wrong side of the road. Now if another car had been there I probably would not be here now. By the way I never really refer to them as my adoptive parents, I call them my parents! This is just to clarify things for the story as it is complicated enough.

Nature or nurture, why was he like this? I have to say I think it is nature. As we have never known anything about Eric’s birthparents we just don’t know. My brother was born January 5, 1956 in New Jersey and adopted March 12, 1956. He also wants to find his birthparents. We are finding out more and more about the importance of genetic influences. I think we have an obligation to tell prospective adoptive parents as much as we can so they know the truth as natural parents have always known.

Eric’s psychiatrist recommended that my folks send me away to school. He said Windsor Mountain school in Massachusetts was a good school. Well before I knew it there I was up in the Berkshire mountains, I was 14 years old and it was 1973. This was one wild school, if that psychiatrist knew!!!!! There was constant pot smoking, drinking, LSD and whatever else in the dormitories. Eric had moved to the same town in Massachusetts that my school was in. He went out with all my friends. So the psychiatrist’s idea of sending we away to school to get away from Eric sure did not work.

I would say to adoptive parents, stay with your kids, they need you. They have already been sent away at least once and you should try to stay with them. Don’t just take some shrinks advice because he or she are “professionals”. Of course hindsight is twenty, twenty. My adoptive parents changed their opinion of this psychiatrist over the years and wouldn't have listened to him if it had been several years later.

Anyway, going away to this school started off a chain of events that sent me down a different road. I did somehow graduate from this school two years later when I was 16 years old. I told my parents if they send me away to this school, I would never come back. As it turned out, I never did go back ever again.

I had graduated from this hippie free school and so now where do I go? My parents sold our house and had separated. They told me Eric had moved back in with them and they just couldn't take it any more. My adoptive mother went through a terrible year or so, her mother had died and her drinking got completely out of control. She rented a 1 bedroom flea bitten apt in a rough neighborhood and had what she later described as a nervous breakdown.

My dad retired at 54, and bought a 1 bedroom condo in upstate NY with swimming pools, tennis courts a golf course and more. I lived with my dad for a few months, but this was a retirement village and no place for me. You weren't allowed to buy the place unless you were at least 40 years old and no kids under 18 years old could live there. My dad said it wouldn't stand up in court so not to worry I could live there. But at 16 years old living in the living room stunk.

My adoptive mother moved in with my dad after about a year of separating and they stayed together for the rest of their lives. They said jokingly they were so old and set in their ways nobody else would have them. That is my adoptive fathers sense of humor, which I think I got a little bit of, I miss it.

I decided to go to Chicago to see my boyfriend from Windsor Mountain. His name was Danny and he was also adopted which helped at this age. He was my first real boyfriend. Danny was from a suburb in Chicago called Wilmette.

I got a job at the Chicago Health Club and worked 48 hours a week. I started college a few months later in Evanston, Illinois. I was still only 16 years old. Danny and I broke up. Kevin was my next boyfriend. On my 18th birthday, I got an inheritance and went on a tour of the country with Kevin. First we went to Disney down in Florida for a few days and then flew back to Chicago. Next we gathered the best camping equipment and took off across country camping out here and there. If you ever get a chance to do this, I highly recommend it. As we were vegetarians we would steam vegetables at the campsite and met everyone all across the county. We stayed on Indian reservations, went to Ram Dass’s house, and spent lots of money.

Kevin was history about a year later, after my inheritance was gone. I learned a lot about money at an early age. There were lots of friends around while the inheritance lasted, now that it was gone where did they all go? If people are there for you through the good times and bad, they are real and you should cherish those people. Those fair weather friends are not worth your time and seem to be there only when you don’t need them. The problem is that life is a long time and you need people to be there when you are down too, not just for the good times.

I had wondered about my birth parents, and would discuss it with my adoptive mom from time to time all my life. It was a sensitive subject and I was always worried about hurting my adoptive parents feelings. My adoptive mom assured me that if I wanted to find “them” she would help me and support me. She really meant it, she said she had thought a lot about it and if she were adopted she would want to know who her birthparents were.

When I was 18 I asked my parents if they remembered the name of the agency where I had been adopted. They said they did not remember other than it was in Jersey City, NJ. With that information I went to the local public library in Evanston and wrote down all the adoption agencies listed in the phone book for Jersey City. I made a form letter by hand (didn’t have computers then) and sent it off to all of the agencies listed. The letter said my name is Lisa O'Donnell and I was born March 2, 1959 and was I adopted through this agency? I secretly hoped my mother had already contacted the agency and she would call me.

Not long after this, I got a letter from a private agency saying yes this is the agency that had placed me for adoption in 1959. I wrote them back and they sent me what they call non-identifying information. When I read a page and a half describing my mother’s hair color, eyes and such I realized this was not what I wanted. I wanted to know who she was, what is she like, did she ever think about me? The agency told me they were not doing search's at this time but were considering it in the future. So that was that.

I found out adoption records were sealed and were not to be opened except under court order. I tried to figure out how to get a court order to open them. I found out unless there was a medical emergency to forget it. I went to a few adoptees meetings, one in Evanston, Illinois in the late 70's. They really couldn't help me as they seemed to only know about searching in Illinois. I didn't just want to talk about it, I wanted to find her. In my opinion adoption records must be opened in the future, we need to change the laws, at least they should be open at the age of 18. It seems obvious to me that this is the right thing to do.

I traveled all over the country in this VW camper. Now I think it is funny, eventually the only way we could start it was me pushing it down a hill in my Dr Scholl sandals and Jim would pop the clutch and off we would go. This makes me laugh today but at the time I was glad I wasn’t walking. We camped out all over the country and finally settled in San Francisco. It was 1979 and Jim and I got married. We wanted to have kids and a month later I was pregnant.

I started thinking about my birthmother more now. I now knew that it was a really big deal having a kid and surely she didn’t just forget about it. I had terrible morning sickness and didn’t have as fun a time being pregnant as I had thought it might be. I decided to leave San Francisco and return to the Chicago area.

Jim and I moved back to Chicago when I was about 4 months pregnant. I was finally feeling better after months of morning sickness, including 2 days in the hospital with an IV in me after being dehydrated. Our son was born and that kept me busy and I really liked being a mom. I thought wow, did my birthmother miss out, wonder what happened? My marriage was not doing so well, Jim was not easy to live with. And although he didn’t leave me he had real problems in particular drinking and that became obvious when inheritance number two ran out and he needed to earn a living.

We went to so many therapists, I cannot count them. All Jim had to say was Lisa has problems because she was adopted and he had the therapists eating out of his hand. Jim learned how to press the professionals buttons so he would not have to get help for his drinking by mentioning adoption, he told me years later. He has been checking to see what I have said about him in the adoption story, told me to write the story a long time ago. Jim has really changed from those times, he has been through good and bad with me and is still around over 20 years later and completely involved with our teenagers lives.

Anyway, I wrote the adoption agency again and asked them if they were doing search's yet, they replied that they were and I had been a main reason why, and please send $60. I was pregnant for the second time and visiting my adoptive parents in New York with my son who was now 2 years old. My mother and I went to the agency and spoke to the search lady about conducting a search for my birthmother. It was an eerie feeling going in to the old adoption building, I felt like I have returned to the place from where I had come from. The worker sat on the other side of the oversized old wooden desk, with my file sitting there right in front of her. She would not let me see it, instead giving me little bits of information like she named you Gerry Lyn after your father. I have to say I thought about just grabbing the file and taking off, but I didn't, probably because I was pregnant and not able to run very fast and my adoptive mother was with me. My adoptive mother gave them a check and the search began. If she was not so supportive I would never of done the search. I really hand it to her, she never made me feel guilty about it, and she was sincere. My dad didn’t like the whole idea as well, but loved me so much he went along with it the best he could.

Jeana had an idea that maybe since we knew the small town my birthparents were from we could get photocopies of all the high school yearbooks and see if we could find someone named Jerry who was the right age. She worked real hard, she sent me hundreds of photocopied pages, nothing was right, nobody named Gerry or Jerry at all. We tried all kinds of ideas, Jeana just did not give up.

Several years passed my daughter was born March 30th which is also the same day that I had been adopted. I gave my daughter the same middle name that my birthmother had given me.

The adoption agency continued to search and finally located my birthmothers father. They sent him a letter and it was signed Patricia.Well that is my birthmothers name also. When my grandfather called my birthmother and told her, they said to each other "I'll bet it is about the baby". My birthmother spent the entire weekend calling everyone with the last name Ettington in the Jersey City area, as that was the agency lady's last name. My birthmother thought maybe that it was really me writing and using the name Patricia as a clue. Well the agency lady sure was startled when my birthmom called her at her home. Patricia Ettington the adoption lady told my birthmother that I was searching for her and did she want to be found? She said she did, and to give me her number and asked me to call her.

A day or so later the agency called me. I could not believe it, I always called the agency, they had never called me before. The search lady told me they had located my mother and that for some legal reason they could not give my birthmother my phone number but they gave me my mothers number and told me to call her tonight. It was July 1984 and I was 25 years old.

When I called my birthmother that night for the first time, I am not sure I heard anything she said. I was so busy listening to how she was saying things that I didn’t hear half of what she said. I remember asking her if she was my mother. She said yes, she was my mother and that is about the last thing I can remember.She sounded familiar to me, like I had heard her voice before. My mother wanted to know what I wanted to call her. Calling her by her first name Patricia did not seem right for me. I said how about mom? She said she liked that, okay.

My birthmother and I planned that we would meet in a month as the kids and I were already planning on leaving that week to go to NY to visit my adoptive parents for a few weeks. I didn’t dare cancel that as I wouldn’t of hurt my adoptive parents for anything. I was in constant communication with my adoptive parents as far as what was going on with my birthmother, I wouldn't have traded a possible relationship with my birthmother if it meant hurting them at all. I could see they were very worried my birthmother would hurt me somehow. They were very protective of me.

I still have the first letter that my birthmother wrote to me and I cried when I read it. Here is an excerpt from it, as it was written.

Please Lord don't let her hate me, let her know how I loved her from the beginning. That I didn't give her up because I didn't want her. You were such a beautiful baby Lisa, you fit to me like my own shin. I've sometimes wished that I had never seen you hold you because after 25 years, I still can see and feel you. Ill never forget when the social worker took you from me, I dressed you to leave me. You see and after 25 years it is still the most painful devastating moment in my life. I wished I could die and didn't believe anyone could live hurting that bad.The overwhelming feelings of loss, powerlessness, crushing immobilizing pain was almost more than I can bear.

My birthmother told me she would mail me some pictures of the family and try to get them to me before I left for NY. She was a RN at a local hospital and sent me her work identification,so I had a recent picture of her. When I finally got the pictures the day I was leaving, I saw that I had to return them. The pictures were of cousins, siblings, grandparents, many new people to meet.I had waited a long time to see who they were, and I really wanted to keep the pictures. I also sent my birthmother pictures of me growing up and my kids(her only grandchildren).

She said she could see that I was her child for sure and that I looked like my birthfather and a cousin quite a bit. She shared the pictures with the whole family. My birthmother said that over the years she would wonder if she saw me if she would recognize me, now she knew she would have. We only had my parents and grandmother in our adoptive family, no cousins or anything, so this was quite something to get used to. My adoptive mother did have a brother however unfortunately he killed himself when I was about 8. For someone like me who is somewhat shy to begin with, meeting so many relatives was exciting and scary.

I called Jeana after speaking to my birthmother and told her what happened. She was as happy for me as anyone. Jeana had lived in West Virginia all of her life and seemed to know all the local news, past and present. When I told Jeana my mothers name, she said "I’d bet your fathers name is Jerry Williams, ask your mother if that was his name".

The next time I spoke with my birthmother I asked her "is my fathers last name was Williams"? She sounded startled and said she would call me back. When she called me back she said "yes, Lisa it was his last name and he is dead. He had died in a motorcycle accident when he was 19 years old". She asked me "Who told you his name?" I had told her about Jeana already, and I said she had told me.

The kids and I went to visit my adoptive parents in New York for a few weeks and things went well. We didn’t talk too much about finding my birthmother. I didn’t bring it up anyway. My mother finally asked me about it right before we returned to Chicago. I showed my adoptive parents the pictures my birthfamily had sent me. I told them it felt like when you get the wrong pictures back from developing. Who are these people in these pictures?

When we got back to Chicago I called my birthmother and we decided that she would come to Wilmette to visit us first. I was freaked out about meeting so many family members at once. It was a little overwhelming, she seemed to understand this before I did.

Oh Daughter of mine child of my youth
I've wondered if you heard me so many years ago
The ache in my heart, the tears that I shed
the loneliness in my soul, that never went away
Oh daughter of mine, you heard me louder than I.
This is a poem my birthmother wrote and framed for me

My birthmother came to visit me in August 1984, she seemed so happy to meet me it was a little of a surprise. She stayed at my house and conked right out at night, I couldn’t sleep all night I was so excited. She wanted me to get in the car with her and go back to Tennessee to meet everyone. I cant remember why I didn’t, but told her I would come visit soon, with in a few weeks. The night before she came to my house, I dreamt that I went to pick her up at the airport and she had all these shopping bags full of her stuff, and was pushing a shopping cart. She had a good laugh when I told her about this.

My adoptive mother wrote a letter to my birthmother in Sept 1984
I still have a copy of the letter,here is the letter below:

Dear Patricia,
We are so happy that Lisa has found you! As you know, we have supported her search and her need to find her own roots. It did not take me long to realize that I would have done the same thing.

Harry and I were deeply touched that you have been concerned about our feelings. We want to reassure you that you have our warmest blessings and our understanding of the emotional impact on Lisa, on you and on all your family. We are so thankful that Lisa found you waiting to give her your love and understanding and the perception and sensitivity to help her to begin to find herself in her new unexpected and wonderful family. The most important thing now is that you both have the opportunity to develop a relationship. We were glad to hear you had driven up to meet her and about her plans to visit you.
Lisa is a wonderful daughter who has brought us much joy and happiness. We love her more than I can tell you.
Most Sincerely,
Harry and Janis O'Donnell

___End of Letter____

10 cheers for my adoptive mom, what a letter!

About a month later my friend Phil and the kids and I drove down to Tennessee to meet the family, he came for moral support, which I dearly needed.

We went down a dirt hill and when we arrived I saw them all hanging out on the front porch, like they were waiting for us. One of the guys had a shirt on that said red neckin and lovin it. I thought oh no, this is not going to work. They seemed friendly though and greeted us getting out of Phil’s pickup truck.

Going inside my mothers home there were family photos all over the place and for the first time I really had to keep myself from crying. I felt left out, like here they all were and where was I? I felt left behind.

My birthmother and her husband didn't tell anyone but my brothers and sisters who I really was. They introduced me to people as Patricia and her husbands child. People would ask "how come she has a Yankee accent, never did see her before"? It was explained that I just did not visit very often.

My birthmother told me they were thinking they would tell everyone that I was an old friend or something, they did not discuss this with me.

When my brother Rudy who is 2 years younger than me walked in the house, I thought my God that is my brother, I know it is. I don’t know why I thought this, I just did. The next day, my mother and I were outside and she was feeding the chickens, I asked her if my father had any other children. She said "no, not that I know of". So I thought oh well, my intuition must be wrong.

I got back to Chicago and told my friends what had gone on, it was the news. I called Jeana and told her and she gave me my fathers mothers phone number. I called my grandma and was glad to hear she sounded so nice, real grandmother like. I can see I have my grammas and my fathers blue eyes. My grandma told me that my brother Rudy that I had just met, was really my full brother, my fathers child. I said "no he is my half brother, I just met him." I had just found out that I had a full brother and I couldn’t figure out why he had not been told.

My gramma was really glad that I called, she told me about how my father had taken the family car and tried to drive to NJ to get Patricia out of the maternity home. He wrecked the family car on the way or things might of been different. She told me how my father sat outside on the steps of the church and cried while my birthmother who was pregnant with (Rudy)his second child was inside getting married to someone else. My fathers mother said "Jerry really cared about your mother and she was the only one he wanted". She sounded real sad as she was thinking back now. I told my gramma that I had been told my birthfather had died in a motorcycle accident. My gramma, said "well", she paused and said "it was said to be an accident".

I called my birthmother on the phone and I asked her if I found out something different than what she had told me, what would you want me to do. She said "like what"? I tried to rephrase the question and now my birthmother was a little annoyed with me and said "Lisa just tell me what you are talking about". So I told her what my gramma had told me, that Rudy was also my father’s child as well. She totally freaked out and said “Lisa, Rudy does not know this”. I couldn’t believe the whole thing and started wondering what else was going to happen next in this family. I was just beginning to trust her and now it seemed like what is the point? I couldn’t imagine my adoptive parents lying to me about something this important.

Finding my mother has not been easy. I got to see the other side. What would have been, what could have been. We all know what it is when we could of gone this way or that in life.

I needed a little time to get used to all of this and would call my birthmother every now and again to talk. I would wait for her to call and she wouldn’t call and I would wonder why. My adoptive parents would always call me if they hadn’t heard from me. Family rules were definitely different and not so easy to just relearn. She told me she wanted me to call her and why didn’t I call very often? I couldn’t figure out whether they didn’t want to hear from me very often or what was up. I still can’t figure it out.

For Christmas I had an oval gold locket designed for my birthmother, I had 2 little pictures placed in the locket, one of me and one of the kids. I had a dream many years ago that I found my birthmother and that I had been given a locket. The kids and I received no Christmas call, card or anything from my birthmother. I didn’t need any stuff but it did hurt my feelings. I was wondering if she had gotten the locket. I decided to call her and she apologized and said "I didn’t even see the little present under the tree". She opened it and thanked me. About two weeks later we got 2 huge boxes with tons of toys and presents from them wrapped for me and my kids.

Two months later was my birthday and my birthmother came for a few days to visit me again. We had champagne and strawberries for breakfast that morning and it was all in all a good time. She told me how every year on my birthday she had made me an angel food cake and although nobody new why, she knew. I wasn't sure I believed her but, months later my half sisters told me they always wondered what the March 2nd cake was about. I told my birthmother angel food was my favorite and I had often wondered if she had even remembered the day.

My mother wanted me to move to Tennessee with the kids and brought it up often. She seemed disappointed that I had not done so. I was feeling accepted but not so sure she really knew or meant what she was saying. She returned to Tennessee and we spoke on the phone here and there. As far as I know my birthmother and adoptive parents never spoke together. My birthmother just had too many unresolved feelings to call my adoptive mother and so she never did.

My birthmother told me if I moved to Tennessee she would help me go back to college. She also made a point that if I wanted to get to know them as a family, I should move down there. I wanted to go back to school a lot and started looking into student loans and it did sound exciting moving in with them. My adoptive parents thought this was a great opportunity for me and that I should try it.

The next summer the kids and I went to visit my birthmother for a week or so and ended up staying there. We had only known my new family for a year and now here we are living there. I had never lived on a farm or lived in a real small town. They had horses, pigs, chickens and goats. I learned to drive the tractor and my mother taught me to drive a clutch going straight uphill. My mother and I had found that we had quite a few things in common, our temperament, interest in quilting and she was fun to hang out with. I went to the local college and took up computers, which became the beginning of what was to be my career.